Blood is Thicker Than Water
by nessie6
Summary: Have you ever wondered what living with Magneto must have been like? This is my story on Pietro's and Wanda's childhood with their father. On Hiatus.
1. PrologueThankyou, Father,For Everything

Disclaimer- I don't own Pietro, Wanda, or Magneto. I also do not own Django and Marya Maximoff. Marvel owns them all.  
  
Author's Note- I actually thought a lot of this on the bus on the way home from school. It sounded really well in my head, so I hope it sounds as good typed. There are swears in this chapter.  
  
Summary- This story is about when Pietro and Wanda were being raised by Magneto and beyond that. Prologue is basically about Pietro's anger towards his father and how they were treated.  
  
Prologue- Thank You, Father, For Everything  
  
People always say I must have had the luckiest childhood. They assume I was spoiled rotten, just because of the way I act. There is a reason for the way I act, but no, it's not from being spoiled. Far from it.  
  
I remember when I first met that monster. Oh, how happy I was! I had another father! Me and Wanda didn't have to be orphans anymore! From that moment on, all I wanted to do was please him. Show him how much I loved him. Show him how much I cared.  
  
We should have never gone with him. He saved our lives, yes, but then something more horrible came with that package, and from this day on, my worst fear was a simple little object. Needles. How I loathe them, how I allowed him to prick at me with those vile instruments, injecting me with his power enhancing supplements. Of course, he really had no idea what the liquids would do to us, he only had a hypothesis. If they proved to be useful, making us more powerful and in control, he would inject himself with the substance.  
  
We were his guinea pigs. His test subjects.  
  
I remember a time when Wanda loved just about anything. She was such a happy girl. Now she's colder than me. She's angrier than me. She's hateful and is bent on revenge. She hates father.  
  
She hates me. For whatever reason.  
  
Thank you, Father, for turning my sweet innocent sister into a cruel and cold-hearted teenager. Thank you for helping her make her hate me.  
  
But you fixed that didn't you? You just couldn't have her chasing after, after your blood. You implanted in her mind false memories. Memories of picnics, amusement parks, candy stores, fireworks. You filled her head with a bunch of bull crap. You didn't even bother putting me into a lot of her memories. Where was I? Do you know how hard it is to explain that to her? You took all of the truth away. The truth that you are a monster.  
  
Why didn't you just change my memories as well? How come Wanda gets the knowledge of a peaceful childhood, while I get the horrid truth of it all? It would be easier if you would have just changed mine as well.  
  
All I ever wanted was to have the father-son relationship that there should have been. All the boys at school, their fathers take them to boy scouts and play catch, bring them to baseball games. I never had the luxury of any of those things.  
  
I watched as the other boys shot hoops with each other. I saw them play one- on-one with their dad while I would walk past their house.  
  
I played alone.  
  
I never got a birthday card from you. I never got a birthday present, unless you count the innumerable injections. I hardly do.  
  
The boys would come to school, showing off their new baseball mitts that their dads had gotten them.  
  
I never even had a baseball glove.  
  
Not while father was there, anyways.  
  
After all of this, why, why do I keep coming back to you, Father? After all the things you have done to me? To Wanda?  
  
The most inexcusable thing you did was that you took Wanda away.  
  
And I let you.  
  
The twin bond me and Wanda share is not particularly strong, but when we drove away from that place, that horrible, horrible place, I felt a gaping hole in my heart. I guess when we were together I was always subconscious of her heartbeat next to mine, of her presence in my mind.  
  
Thank you, Father, for ruining me even further.  
  
You bastard.  
  
We were scorned for showing weakness, scorned for not trying harder, scorned for mistakes. Especially me. You hurt me in so many ways, Father. I can never forgive you for that.  
  
Perhaps that is why I always seek challenges. To prove myself. To prove myself to you all! To prove I am worth it, that I am strong. To prove that I am powerful, when really, I'm just as weak and cowardly as you all. I wanted to prove myself above all others, but I'm not.  
  
I hadn't realized until now how much you have ruined me.  
  
Fuck you. Fuck you, you bastard.  
  
Yet still, what draws me to you over and over again? Maybe hope, perhaps, that you might in some twisted way care about me? Love me?  
  
I never even heard my father say 'I love you.'  
  
I am still waiting for that day. Maybe perhaps, why I come back to you over and over again is because, in fact, you are my father.  
  
Blood IS thicker than water.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
A/N- So, what do you think? The rest of the story is basically Pietro's and Wanda's childhood. This was just a little prologue, introducing you to how the characters feel. Well, I hope you like it. R&R! Check out my other stories. 


	2. Angry Mob

Disclaimer- Look at chapter one.  
  
Summary- Pietro and Wanda's childhood with Magneto.  
  
Chapter One- Angry Mob  
  
Pietro squeezed Wanda's hand, his last offer of comfort. They were surrounded, and while they had both tried to use their mysterious powers to escape, they were overpowered.  
  
It all happened while they were walking around the small village, looking for food to nick, and Wanda accidentally set fire to a house with her powers. She really didn't mean to, she was just upset about the events that had happened prior. The villagers thought her as a witch, and Pietro tried to use his unnatural speed for both of them to escape, but alas, they were surrounded. The angry mob carried pitchforks and torches, and frightfully sharp looking axes. They were closing in.  
  
"I'm scared, Pie," she whispered to him with fright, moving closer to him for even more comfort and safety. He was after all, her big brother, even though they were twins. They really didn't know which one was older, but they had always assumed it was Pietro, since he was the boy, he was taller, and he had gotten his powers first.  
  
"Shh, it's alright," Was all he could say.  
  
The mob was closing in, and Pietro was feeling unusually claustrophobic. He screwed his eyes shut, and pulled Wanda even closer to him, ready to shield her from the blows that would come.  
  
But suddenly the mob started screaming. Pietro risked opening his eyes, and then widened them at what he saw. The axes were spinning around over his head, the pitchforks shot out and toward the houses, injuring some of the villagers.  
  
"It's another one!" one of the men screamed and many of them went running, but some of the braver ones stood their ground.  
  
"Come and fight you freak!" they shouted.  
  
"You humans are too below me for me to even bother," A deep voice said, and Pietro and Wanda saw a man hovering from the ground. He had a stern face and grayish-white hair, and cerulean blue eyes.  
  
One of the men raised a gun at the flying one, and shot three times. Pietro screwed his eyes shut again and he heard Wanda scream. They heard nothing for a while and slowly, they opened their eyes, afraid of what they would see.  
  
The man had his hand raised in front of him, his fingers spread slightly apart. There was a self-satisfied smirk on his face.  
  
"As you can see," he drawled, "I control all metals. Even the iron in your blood."  
  
And he raised his right arm in front of him and seemed to barely have to concentrate in order for one of the men to be lifted off the ground and in obvious pain. Blood trickled out of the man's nose.  
  
The one that controlled the metals laughed. "Better think next time you come across one of us. There are more dangerous ones than those helpless little children. I am one of them."  
  
And he snatched the gun out of the man's hand using his powers and in the air the gun was, bending in a knot. He smirked and the gun dropped to the ground, the three bullets that were suspended in midair and the man followed it immediately after.  
  
"Come children," he said and he lowered himself to the ground and started walking towards a limousine that they failed to notice before.  
  
Seeing that they had no choice, the twins followed after the man and into the limousine with him, the door shut after they climbed in by itself.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
While they were getting washed up, their torn and dirty clothes had been washed. They were then led by the butler down to some sort of place that reminded you of where you go when you go to the doctor's.  
  
"Master Lehnsherr will be with you in a moment," he said and exited the room, leaving them there all alone.  
  
"Pietro I'm still scared," Wanda muttered to him.  
  
"We're safer here than where we were," he whispered back and looked around the room.  
  
They heard the door open and shut quietly, and their heads snapped to the direction of it.  
  
They same man with the metal powers entered and he gave them a small reassuring smile.  
  
"Hello," he said kindly, although there was a small hint of coldness in his voice. "I'm Erik Lehnsherr, who are you?"  
  
They did not answer at first but eventually Wanda spoke up, "Pietro and Wanda Maximoff."  
  
Erik's eyes widened only slightly but then they returned back to normal and he gave them a smile. "You might have noticed you have unusual powers that not all people have," he said to them. "You are called mutants, humans with an extra gene, the X-gene, or the mutant gene. Regular humans will never understand our gifts. If you don't mind, I would like to give you some checkups?"  
  
Pietro smiled only slightly but it faded a little bit, and Wanda's face was blank, but her eyes looked a little frightened.  
  
"I will not hurt you," he said softly, "Trust me."  
  
They nodded and he looked pleased.  
  
"Now, how old are you two?" he asked as he readied his supplies.  
  
"Eight," Pietro answered.  
  
"Eight?" Erik said with some surprise. He turned around and looked at them. "Usually mutants do not develop their powers until they reach puberty. If they do, however, their parents are usually mutants or they were in a life- threatening moment. Are-or were your parents mutants?"  
  
Pietro shook his head. Wanda said, "Our parents were gypsies, but we were adopted. We do not remember too much since the whole fight. We don't know what happened to them."  
  
Erik looked a little sympathetic, "If you want, I could look into it and see if they are alive or not. What were your parents names?"  
  
"Django and Marya Maximoff," Pietro told him.  
  
"I will look into it," Erik said and then turned around and grabbed two small veils and two shots. "I will need a blood sample from the both of you. You do not mind do you?"  
  
Pietro fidgeted slightly as Wanda shook her head. He did not particularly like shots, but if he needed them, he will have one.  
  
"I will try not to hurt you too much," he said in a gentle tone, "It will feel like a small pinch, that's all."  
  
He prodded the needle into Wanda's arm first, and she winced slightly but that was all. He deposited the blood into one of the little veils. He threw the shot away using his powers to levitate it there, and then he took the other shot and drew some of Pietro's blood. He winced, but he held in his breath and he saw as Erik also deposited his blood into the other veil.  
  
"You're done," he said, "Alfred, the butler, will escort you down to the dining area so you can eat. I will join you shortly, just after I test your blood."  
  
They nodded, and the got up from where they were sitting and walked up to Alfred, who was now standing in the doorway and waited for him to lead them to the dining room.  
  
Life, so far, looked a little better.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
You might have noticed that I named the butler Alfred. Sorry, but it was very tempting, since it seems all butlers are named that. I was going to call him Jarvis, but then I realized he's the Avenger's butler, so he can't be Magneto's.  
  
Erik seemed nice in here didn't he? I did that so the kids will trust him more, and because I like a nice Magneto. I actually kinda like him, really.  
  
Watch out for the sequel to 'The Silver-Tongued Mutant' coming soon!  
  
Thanks for your reviews, keep reviewing, they mean so much to me! (Cheesy I know)  
  
R&R! 


	3. Memory

Disclaimer- Look at chapter one.  
  
Summary- Ever wonder what happened to Pietro and Wanda while they were living with Magneto? Here's their story.  
  
Author's Note- I'm on a role here! This has to be my best chapter for this story yet! I am VERY proud of it (! A lot of it is flashback, and it's really quite sad. Hope you enjoy!  
  
'Thought'  
  
Chapter Two- Memory  
  
They had eaten in stony silence. Erik had not come from his lab to join them for dinner like he said he would. Alfred the Butler said not to worry, that Master Lehnsherr probably discovered something interesting.  
  
One of the maids, Anita, had shown them to their room. They had to share one for now, but she had said that they would get their own room soon. She had also gone to town to buy them some clothes, pajamas included. They of course, had smiled gratefully at her; truly glad she was there.  
  
Anita was a stout woman, very tough, but very kind and gentle at the same time. She had come from Germany, which had delighted the twins, since they knew German. They thought they were originally from Germany before coming to the States, but they did not remember. They remembered their parents spoke a few languages. One of them was Romany, the gypsy language, and the other was German. Those were the only ones the twins had heard them speak in, but they thought they had known more.  
  
Pietro changed into his blue pajamas and climbed into his twin bed. Across from him, Wanda did the same. He looked around the room for a minute before he yawned. He was really tired.  
  
Anita knocked on the door and peeked her head in. She gave them a warm smile, "Gute Nacht Süße," [1] she said softly and closed the door.  
  
The twins fell asleep, too exhausted to wish each other a good night, or say their prayers, or answer Anita. The only noise in their room was their steady and slow, rhythmic breathing.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Erik had stayed in his lab all night, intrigued with what he had discovered.  
  
"How can this be?" he questioned himself. He had not known. How come she didn't tell him? This must be a mistake.  
  
He had tested the blood samples three times. The results were always the same.  
  
"Oh, Magda," he whispered in a choked voice. He had not known what had happened to her when she ran away that fateful night. The only thing he knew was that she was dead; they had found her body nearly buried in the snow. He had not known she was with child. Two children, in fact.  
  
He vision blurred slightly, and he closed his eyes shut, digesting the overwhelming information. Why hadn't she told him?  
  
Oh, Magda, how I wish you were here, alive and well.  
  
He blinked his eyes rapidly, furious with himself for showing such weakness, even if he was alone.  
  
He then felt a bitter resentment toward his dead, beloved wife. She had run away from him, because of what he was. She was just like all the other humans out there.  
  
But then, she wasn't.  
  
His heart ached at the mere thought of her. He had not spared a moment to think or remember her for nearly five years. Now, with the twins in his life, his children, he could not help but do otherwise.  
  
Erik closed his eyes as a memory flashed before his eyes.  
  
*~Flashback~*  
  
Erik was surprised to see an angry mob outside of his home. They were carrying pitchforks, torches, guns, any kind weapon you could think of that a mere farmer or villager could get their hands on.  
  
"Come out of there, freak!" A male voice shouted.  
  
Erik rushed to his house, worried about his wife and child.  
  
"What in God's name is going on here?" He shouted to them, confused and frightened.  
  
Heads turned in his direction. A burly and grungy looking man with a pitchfork shouted, "There he is! The freak!"  
  
Magda came out of the house then. She looked terrified. "Erik!" She cried in relief.  
  
She ran to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He embraced her gratefully.  
  
"They frightened me, Erik! They just came without warning and started shouting all of these horrible things! Erik, I'm so glad you're home!" she cried into his neck.  
  
"What is happening?" he asked frantically, "Is Anya alright?"  
  
Magda nodded, "I locked her in the house. Erik, why are they calling you such horrid names?"  
  
Another villager, this one tall and muscular with a scraggly beard shouted, "The child! She must be a freak too! Set their house on fire!"  
  
A great roar of approval spread from the crowd, although some of them looked frightened at the thought of burning an innocent child. Many who carried torches tossed them on top of the roof of the beautiful and wooden house.  
  
Magda screamed.  
  
"My baby! My baby's in there!" She screamed, lunging forward, but Erik caught her around the waist. She clawed at the air towards the house, screaming at the top of her lungs, tears rolling down her beautiful face.  
  
"No, Magda!" Erik warned vehemently. "I will get Anya! Stay here, away from the crowd. I will be back, I cannot have you injured!"  
  
Magda fell to the ground crying, and rocking back and forth. She prayed aloud, asking for her daughter to make it out of there alive.  
  
Erik rushed toward the house, intent on saving his only daughter. The crowd, however, would not have that. They charged at Erik, surrounding him, delaying the time he needed to save his daughter.  
  
"Erik!" he heard Magda howl in shear terror when she saw her husband surrounded by angry and armed farmers and villagers while he remained defenseless.  
  
"Please, my daughter, let me help her!" Erik pleaded with the crowd. A man advanced on him from behind and hit him hard on the side of the head. Erik collapsed, blood pouring down the side of his face. He breathed hard for moment, temporarily dazed from the pain. He squinted his eyes as some blood flowed into it, his eye burning. He wiped the side of his head with his sleeve, and stood up slowly.  
  
Erik decided that there was no other way, "Sorry, Charles, but our little secret will have to go out in the open. I have no other choice," he whispered. His heart pounded as he readied himself.  
  
An intense look of concentration etched his face as he raised his hand with his fingers spread, and all of the pitchforks and guns flew out of the people's hands and quite a few of them let out screams of horror and ran away from the house.  
  
The braver ones stood their ground, however. "Let the spawn of this monster burn! She deserves to die, for she will become a freak also!"  
  
Some of the people looked terrified. If they did not follow, they would be killed. But is it worth the life of a little girl?  
  
Erik looked up at the house and in the window on the second floor, where a little round and six-year old face looked out of it in trepidation. Her small hands were plastered against the glass, and her mouth was open wide in a scream. Tears were rolling down her rosy cheeks. She coughed.  
  
Angry hot tears shown in Erik's eyes and a great power he did not know he possessed overtook him. He looked at the crowd and with a wave of his hand, he moved them aside so he could make a path. For the first time in his life, Erik had controlled the iron in another human being's blood.  
  
In the distance, he heard Magda scream again, but he ignored it and continued his way towards the house that was being engulfed in flames. The men charged at him but all Erik had to do was wave his hand and the pitchforks he had not managed to get flew out of their hands and spun above their heads like the others. Yet they still managed to block his path, delaying him further.  
  
Over the angry shouts of the mob, Magda's screams, and the roar of the flames, he could now hear a new sound. It was screaming, but it was a little girl's. Anya was screaming.  
  
"Poppa! Poppa! I'm burning! It hurts!"  
  
Anya!  
  
Erik was now overcome with panic and anger. He let out a snarl and raised both hands over his head, and the pitchforks and knives and all the metal weapons that had been floating above their heads came down, stabbing whatever human was in the way. For the first time in his life, Erik Lehnsherr killed another human being.  
  
And he was not ashamed.  
  
He levitated himself up to the second-floor window, berating himself for not thinking of that sooner. He punched the window, holding back a cry of agony as he broke his hand from the impact, and carefully climbed inside, careful to still make himself levitate so he wouldn't fall on the ground.  
  
The entire house was filled with smoke and flames. He paused, coughing violently as he inhaled the smoke. Was Anya burned? Or did she suffocate from the smoke?  
  
He created a magnetic shield around himself to protect his body from the smoke and the flames.  
  
He mentally punched himself. He should not be thinking such horrible things. Anya was still alive. Anya. . .  
  
"ANYA!" Erik cried when he saw something on the floor. He rushed over to it. It was a body, burnt to a crisp, some parts still alight with small flames, the rest smoking.  
  
Erik hastily picked it up and ran down the stairs, where there was less flames and smoke. He burst out the front door.  
  
Erik dropped to his knees and examined the body of his daughter that lay in his arms. He laid it gently on the ground, so as not to harm the body. Her light brown hair was gone, and the skin was burnt beyond recognition.  
  
His throat tightened and he felt his heart hammering in his chest. He felt like he was going to die.  
  
Her heard Magda let out a wail of agony and drop to her knees beside him, lightly touching the body, burning her fingers as she did so.  
  
The smell of the burnt flesh was putrid, and Erik moved to the side, vomiting over and over. Magda's hand was clasped over her nose and mouth, her face ashen. Tears poured down like waterfalls down her face.  
  
Erik's face contorted in grief. His little girl was dead. . . His little girl, all because of what he was. . .  
  
Then a new feeling overcame Erik, this feeling more dominant than his grief. Anger.  
  
He raised his head slowly, his face flushed red, his teeth bared, his blue eyes shining with tears. He looked up at the people who had done this to his daughter. He looked at them with such an intense loathing that it frightened many of them and they scampered. The very few that had remained seemed a little satisfied, and some of the others, horrified at what they had done. They had murdered an innocent little girl.  
  
'They murdered MY little girl.'  
  
He carefully lowered Anya's corpse to the ground and slowly stood up, his fists clenched at his side. Magda continued to stare at the ruined body of her only child, and started to rock back and forth. She looked up at her husband when she realized he had gotten up. He raised his arms out in front of him, unclenching his fists as he did so. Two men rose into the air, and with barely concentrating at all, so great was Erik's anger, he ripped the iron right out of their bodies. Blood soaked their shirts and they fell to the ground, the iron coming to Erik.  
  
Erik formed them into little metal balls and looked at the twelve that remained. He formed six balls, and he shot them towards the people. They gave out yells of fright and they tried to run away, but Erik was too quick, and the metal shot right through them like a bullet, and he did it again, and again, and again, until they were only bleeding corpses on the ground. Their bodies were mutilated.  
  
Erik stood there for a moment. No feeling of regret washed over him, only satisfaction. He avenged his little girl. His baby girl.  
  
He turned back to his wife and dead child. He might of avenged Anya, but it did not bring her back to life. This only made him angrier.  
  
Magda was looking up at him with frightened green eyes. Her dark hair was a mess, and her face was pale, even with her olive complexion.  
  
"Come, my wife, let us lay our daughter to rest," he spoke gently, taking a step towards her.  
  
She frantically crawled away backwards, and she rolled over and pushed herself up on her feet.  
  
"Magda," Erik whispered in confusion. He reached out to her.  
  
Magda gave a little yelp of fright and ran away, sobbing as she did so. She was frightened of him.  
  
"You're not the man I married! What have you done with my husband?" she called over her shoulder, and her voice was laced with an emotional agony so great, that anybody listening or watching would have broken down in tears.  
  
Erik felt his heart break. His own wife was frightened of him. His love was terrified of him.  
  
"Magda?" he called out to her desperately, silently pleading for her not to go.  
  
She kept running and Erik did nothing to stop her. He stood in the same place until he could no longer see his love anymore. He was so exhausted. Night had fallen.  
  
The flames still burned the house. Everything he owned was gone. Every picture, every treasure he had ever owned, was gone.  
  
Even his little girl.  
  
He turned his head to her. She still lay there, lifeless.  
  
He walked the few steps that separated him from her and he bent down and scooped her up in his arms and started walking towards the woods. The smell was still unbearable and he did everything to hold the vomit inside of him. A few times, he had to swallow it back up. He summoned one of the shovels that had been left behind to follow them.  
  
He had buried his daughter not too far into the woods. It was a place he would remember where it was, and he would come back with a beautiful tombstone for her.  
  
He knelt down in front of the grave and whispered in German, "Mein Gott legt, bitte mein schöne Tochter zu ruhen." [2]  
  
*~End Flashback~*  
  
Erik shook his head to rid himself of the memory.  
  
He would tell Pietro and Wanda he was their father tomorrow, but for right now it could wait.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
A/N- So what do you think of this chapter? I know it's mostly a flashback, but that kind of explains why Erik is like that. Thanks to all who reviewed! Please keep doing it!  
  
Translations:  
  
[1]- Good night, sweet ones  
  
[2]- My God, please lay my beautiful daughter to rest  
  
Like it? Hate it? Either way review! 


	4. Finding Out

Disclaimer- Hey! Check out chapter one!  
  
Summary- Ever wonder what Pietro and Wanda's life was like with their father? Find out! Pietro and Wanda angst, and even Magneto.  
  
Author's Note- I will be updating this often, and I will try to do that with Up In Flames also. It's mainly because it's a little backround information for the sequel to Drastic Changes, which won't be coming out for a long time, and some of my other stories.  
  
Chapter Three- Finding Out  
  
Pietro and Wanda sat at the long table, eating the waffles and bacon hungrily. They had not had such a fine meal in a long time. Large glasses of milk were placed in front of them, and a large pitcher of orange juice also.  
  
Erik walked in then, wearing a white dress shirt and khakis. He seemed like a formal kind of guy, so the twins were careful around him.  
  
He sat down at the head of the table. He didn't say anything as he filled his plate with waffles, bacon, eggs, and all other kinds of stuff.  
  
"Morning," he then said pleasantly.  
  
"Good morning," they chorused back. Erik looked at them. He saw it now, he saw the resemblance. They both had his blue eyes, and Wanda looked like her mother. Pietro looked like him, except his hair was silver, and his face was narrower and he had higher cheekbones. Erik recalled that one of Magda's brother's face was shaped like that. Wanda's face was shaped more like his, except there was also a lot of her mother there. Her nose, and the shape of her eyes. They both had an olive complexion, just like his and Magda's. They were definitely his children.  
  
"After you are done with breakfast," he spoke to them, "I want you to go to Alfred and he will show you where my office is. I need to tell you something."  
  
They nodded and silently went back to their breakfast, although they looked rather confused.  
  
They then finished and Alfred came in and escorted them to the direction of the office while Erik ate alone, reminiscing.  
  
*~Flashback~*  
  
Erik prayed. He was in a synagogue, a holy place for the Jewish people, where they celebrate the Sabbath on a Saturday. It was not Saturday. It was a Friday.  
  
Erik wept for all he had lost. No one was with him. Or so he thought.  
  
After his tears had dried, and the dry sobs quieted down and came less often, did the rabbi make his presence known.  
  
"Erik?" he asked. He was a kind old man, with iron gray hair and beard and gentle black eyes.  
  
Erik jumped and looked up. "Rabbi?" he said in quiet confusion.  
  
"Erik, what are you doing here? It is not Sabbath."  
  
"I know," Erik said, and he looked down again.  
  
"What is wrong, Erik? Where's your wife?"  
  
"She left me," Erik whispered.  
  
"Your child?"  
  
"Dead."  
  
The rabbi was silent. This was news to him. Was it Erik's house that had been burned down?  
  
"Erik. . ." He hesitated. How was he going to ask this? "Erik, what happened?"  
  
"You will not hate me if I say?" The question was spoken so low that he had to strain to hear.  
  
"Of course not."  
  
"I'm different."  
  
"How so?" the rabbi walked over to Erik and sat down next to him.  
  
"I have powers. I can control all kinds of metals," he paused for the rabbi.  
  
"Continue."  
  
"They must have seen me. They came to my house yesterday, demanding I come out, calling me a freak. I was not home. Magda and Anya were alone in the house."  
  
"Then?"  
  
"I came and I saw them. They had weapons. Torches. Magda came out then, told me what was happening. They set the house on fire. Anya was still inside."  
  
The rabbi nodded solemnly for him to continue.  
  
"I killed them. I do not regret it. They burned my daughter alive."  
  
The rabbi was shocked for a moment. He covered it up quickly, however, "Erik, I am terribly sorry. You and your family are in our prayers."  
  
Erik was silent. Then he muttered in Yiddish, "God, let my daughter rest in peace. Watch over my wife, let her be well."  
  
"Do you need anywhere to stay, Erik?" the rabbi asked.  
  
"Nein," he whispered in German. "Ich habbe ein anderes Haus. Größer. Aber es ist nicht Heim." [I have another house. Bigger. But it is not home.]  
  
"Then go to that house. Make it your home," the rabbi said.  
  
Erik stood, looked at the rabbi one last time, and walked out. He never celebrated Sabbath again, or stepped foot in another synagogue. That was the last time the rabbi saw Erik Magnus Lehnsherr in person.  
  
*~End Flashback~*  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Pietro and Wanda sat together on a comfortable couch. They were rather surprised when they saw that a lot of the things in the office seemed to be made of metal. In fact, the couch seemed like the only non-metal thing in there. It was kind of creepy.  
  
Erik then walked in, and took a seat at his desk. He gave them a tiny smile that did not reach his eyes.  
  
"This may come as a shock to you," he said. "But I have tested your blood samples and your DNA is very similar to mine. Do you know what that means?"  
  
The twins shook their head.  
  
"It means I am your biological father."  
  
"But Django was our father," Wanda said in confusion.  
  
"He was your adoptive father," Erik said, looking at them both in the eye. "And Marya was your adoptive mother. Your real mother is dead."  
  
"What do we call you?" Pietro asked.  
  
"Father."  
  
"We called Django papa," Wanda began.  
  
"I am not Django. I am Erik Lehnsherr. I am your father, and that is what you will call me," Erik said sternly.  
  
They looked down, ashamed. They seemed almost afraid of him.  
  
Erik's expression softened only slightly. "Come, I will tell you of your mother and your sister."  
  
Wanda looked up, "We have a sister?"  
  
Erik nodded, holding out his hand for her, she took it. "You will never meet her. She is dead."  
  
Wanda stood up, and then looked back at Pietro, who had not moved. She grabbed his hand and tugged it.  
  
He looked up and nodded, getting up and following with them. Erik had let go of Wanda's hand. They started walking.  
  
"I think you will like the garden," he said as they followed him.  
  
"Will you tell us of our mother?" Wanda asked.  
  
Erik nodded. "She was very beautiful. She had green eyes, and dark hair like yours, Wanda. I see her strength in you already."  
  
Wanda smiled a bit at the compliment. "Was she kind like Mama and Papa?"  
  
Erik almost froze. How can Magda not be kind? Was this little girl implying that his beloved dead wife was hateful? He almost yelled at her.  
  
"Of course she was kind," Erik said a little too harshly. Wanda let out a very quiet whimper and looked down. Pietro squeezed her hand tighter.  
  
"She didn't mean it like she was mean or anything," Pietro defended his sister.  
  
Erik's eyes hardened. He would not be lied to!  
  
But he didn't say anything and continued to walk to one of the back doors that led to the garden.  
  
"What about our sister?" Pietro then asked. He did not like silence.  
  
"She had light brown hair, almost blonde, and green eyes. Her name was Anya. You look much like her, Wanda, except with obvious mistakes," he said softly.  
  
"When you are living here you will take lessons in controlling your powers, and you will take lessons on different languages. Anita said you already know German, yes?" Erik said.  
  
"Yes," Pietro answered.  
  
Erik nodded, "Then you will be learning Polish, Dutch, Italian, Norwegian, French, and Spanish. You will have a lesson every day. Each language will last a half hour. It will do you good in the future."  
  
Pietro lowered his eyes to the floor, not saying anything. That was a lot of languages they had to learn.  
  
"You will be starting them in two days. You will speak German as much as you can so you will not forget the language. A way of doing that is to speak German all the time to Anita. She will enjoy it."  
  
They walked outside of the back door and into a beautiful garden. Erik led them to an elegantly carved bench. "Sit," he said, pointing to the seat. They sat.  
  
Wanda looked around her in awe. The flowers were very pretty. She wondered if she could pick some later.  
  
Erik looked at them sternly. He seemed to like to talk business, and not with fatherly love. "Pietro, please demonstrate your powers," he commanded gently.  
  
Pietro got up. He then started running and five seconds later he was at the back door. Erik wondered if he could make Pietro go faster.  
  
"I can't do it for a long time," Pietro said in a shaky voice. Using his powers usually tired him out a bit. "It's usually just spurts and stuff."  
  
"I think we can fix that," Erik said thoughtfully. He turned to Wanda who looked a little bit frightened. "Wanda, how about yours?"  
  
She vehemently shook her head. "Last time I used them, I set a house on fire!"  
  
Erik's eyes narrowed. Just saying that simple sentence brought Anya's screams to his ears, her burnt body in front of his eyes. He blinked a couple of times to rid the image and shook his head every so slightly to tune out the screams.  
  
"Just demonstrate at what you can do."  
  
Wanda sighed, looking terrified. A plant burst into flames. Blue aura surrounded her fingertips. Her eyes shined. She started to cry.  
  
Erik bent down on one knee in front of her. "Weinen Sie, Kind nicht (Do not cry, child)," he whispered to her in German. "Es ist ein Zeichen der Schwäche. Meine Kinder sind nicht schwach. (It is a sign of weakness. My children are not weak.)" he wiped away her tears with an old thumb.  
  
She sniffed a couple of times.  
  
"Why are you so afraid of your powers? You can be very powerful when you gain full control of them!" Erik told her to bring her courage up. She needed to believe in herself.  
  
"Emotions trigger your powers. Especially anger and great sadness. Try not to be too angry in yourself and others. It will only ruin you." He said.  
  
'It ruined me.'  
  
"Do you know Romany?" asked Pietro, from right next to Erik. He liked speaking the gypsy language, although he only spoke it with Wanda.  
  
Erik turned his head to him.  
  
"My wife spoke the language. I only know some words. What has that got to do with anything?" he snapped. Pietro took a step back, his eyes wide.  
  
"I just wanted to know. We were talking about languages before."  
  
"Master Lehnsherr! Master Lehnsherr!" Alfred called from the door. Erik stood up.  
  
"What?" he snapped vehemently at the butler.  
  
"Professor Xavier is here, sir. Would you like me to bring him to your office?"  
  
"Yes, Alfred," Erik said. He had forgotten he had an appointment with the telepath.  
  
"Children, would you like to meet another mutant?" He asked the twins. They nodded. He started walking back inside the house and they followed.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
I really don't know anything about the Jewish religion except teeny tiny details. I'm Catholic. If any of you out there that knows how it goes and stuff PLEASE tell me! I'd really, really, really appreciate it!  
  
I'm really enjoying writing this story. I will try to focus on this one and Up In Flames more often right now. Up In Flames will probably be updated soon, and I have written some of chapter 9 of In Dreams. Thanks to all who reviewed!  
  
InsaneBunneh- How did I steal your story? I'm gonna update UIF in a LITTLE WHILE! Geez, you definitely inherited the impatient genes. Well, you better like this chapter.  
  
Anon- I love it when you review! Intense? Intense?! Oh YAY! My story's INTENSE! That makes me so happy for some reason! Thanks for reviewing! Hope you like this chapter!  
  
la cour de belles fleurs- You seem to like reviewing twice for a chapter. Not that I don't mind. But no offense, are you like forgetting that you already reviewed? Memory problem? Thanks for your review!  
  
Please check out my other stories! Especially 'The Downside of Love'! It's good! It's entertaining!  
  
Like it? Hate it? Either way review! 


	5. Professor Xavier

Disclaimer- I own them ALL! Bwa ha ha ha ha!  
  
Don't sue me, all you'll get is my cat. Then you'll have a psycho cat and I'll be catless. So really, there's no point.  
  
Chapter Four- Professor Xavier  
  
Erik opened the door to his office, standing to the side so the twins could enter. They looked around almost nervously and then spotted a bald man in a wheelchair sitting in front of the desk. Wanda immediately looked to the floor, knowing it was rude to look at people's shiny heads and crippled legs. Pietro stared.  
  
"Charles, I believe you have yet to meet my children," Erik said coolly as he quietly closed the door behind him.  
  
Charles's eyes widened slightly in surprise but then his face melted into a kind smile when he saw the two of them.  
  
"Wanda and Pietro," Erik told him, "I am sure you can guess which is which."  
  
"Hello," Charles said gently, smiling at the two, the corner of his eyes crinkled. "My name is Professor Xavier."  
  
Wanda looked up. She managed a small smile back. Pietro was now staring at the professor's head. Wanda nudged him in the ribs.  
  
"Ow!" he exclaimed, glaring at her through his usually warm blue eyes.  
  
The professor chuckled. "Do not worry," he said, "I get that a lot."  
  
Wanda's smile grew a bit wider, lighting up her young and innocent face, making her blue eyes sparkle.  
  
"Father said you are a mutant too?" she asked curiously.  
  
Charles nodded. "Yes, I am telepathic."  
  
"What's that?" Wanda asked.  
  
"I have the ability to read minds."  
  
Pietro's mouth opened slightly. "That's a lot better than my powers. I wish I could read minds."  
  
Charles gave him a small smile. "Sometimes knowing one's thoughts can be a burden. What are your powers?"  
  
"I'm fast," Pietro said with a small amount of pride.  
  
"I set houses on fire," Wanda piped up.  
  
Erik had been watching the three talk coolly from his desk. He stood up.  
  
"Wanda, Pietro, leave the office now," he said, his voice hard, "There are things that the Professor and I need to discuss."  
  
The twins looked down at the floor in unison. They turned, opened the door, and Wanda closed it quietly behind them.  
  
Erik sat back down behind his desk. Entwining his fingers and resting his chin on them, he looked at the telepath through cool blue eyes.  
  
Charles sighed, "How well are you reacting to this, Magnus?"  
  
"As well as you can expect one to, Charles," Erik said in an almost sarcastic tone. "It is very common to find out that your dead wife that has run away from you was pregnant with your twins and yet she did not tell you. How did you think I reacted Charles?!"  
  
Charles narrowed his eyes. "I just asked, Magnus. No harm in that."  
  
"No," Erik seethed, "No, no harm at all. It just came as a shock."  
  
"It is natural to be shocked about that sort of thing," Charles said in his ever calm tone, "It is not pleasant to stumble upon that sort of revelation."  
  
"You're taking this so calmly, Charles!" Erik exclaimed, "What if you had a child, no *two* children, that no one told you about?"  
  
"It is doubtful," Charles said, setting his hands into a steeple.  
  
"It was doubtful that Magda was with child!" Erik said vehemently, slamming his palms onto his desk out of anger and frustration.  
  
"But she was," Charles replied calmly. "Let the matter drop for now, Magnus. I came here to discuss other things, not your children."  
  
Erik sighed and ran a hand through his light gray hair. "What did you come here to discuss, Charles?" he asked softly.  
  
"Your recent actions. You are threatening humans with promises of death, Magnus. It needs to stop," Charles said sternly.  
  
"Who are you to tell me what to do?" Erik's icy tone was frightening.  
  
"They'll be more hesitant to accept us if you keep doing that, Magnus! You know this!" Charles exclaimed.  
  
"Humanity will never accept us, Charles!" Erik just about roared. "They burned my daughter alive, just because of what I am! Don't you see? If we do not do something, there will be another Holocaust! I will not have others, and especially my children, going through the torture my family and I did!"  
  
"There doesn't have to be another Holocaust, Magnus," Charles said softly.  
  
Erik ran a hand over his face. His hand muffled his reply, "But there *will* be, Charles, if we don't do something about it!" He ran his hand through his hair and looked the professor in his brown eyes, "They will start blaming us for everything. They'll blame us for the homelessness, bad economy, and the diseases. We'll become their scapegoats, Charles. I will not have that. Not again."  
  
"It seems, old friend, we are going separate ways," he said sadly.  
  
"Then so be it."  
  
Silence.  
  
"I guess this is good-bye then," Charles said, his voice laced with dismay.  
  
"For now, Charles," Erik's voice did not hold sadness, nor regret, but coldness.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Pietro and Wanda had their ears very close to the opening crack at the bottom of the office door. It was Pietro's idea to eavesdrop, of course, and Wanda had warily agreed with him.  
  
There was silence in the room now, and all they could hear was their own slow breathing. Pietro put one of his hands on Wanda's forehead and pushed her back a bit so he could get more towards the center of the door, where the crack was bigger. Wanda scowled at him. She pushed him back. He scowled back at her. Pushed her back. She pushed him back again. Pietro let out a quiet growl and shoved her away. One of the light bulbs down the hallway exploded from Wanda's anger.  
  
They heard footsteps coming towards the door now. They scrambled to their feet, and Pietro was about to rescue him and Wanda from punishment when the door opened and they saw the scowling face of their father.  
  
"What are you doing?" He hissed.  
  
"Now you've done it," Pietro muttered very quietly to Wanda. She glared at him.  
  
"If I catch you both eavesdropping again, your punishment will be severe," Their father growled. He was a very frightening fellow, really.  
  
"Be off, the both of you," he said and he waved his hand to them, as if he was trying to shoo them away.  
  
Pietro grabbed his sister and with a burst of speed, he was gone.  
  
They appeared in their bedroom. Pietro put Wanda down, holding her arm so she could regain her balance.  
  
After her spell of dizziness went away she growled at him, "What was that for?! What was with the 'now you've done it'?"  
  
"Well, you caused the light bulb to burst," Pietro said in his defense.  
  
"You're annoying sometimes," Wanda huffed and crossed her arms across her chest. She stomped over to her bed and sat on the edge, glaring at him.  
  
"I'm sorry, okay?" he said, holding his hands up in surrender. "I promise I won't blame you again."  
  
"Promise?" Wanda asked.  
  
"Yeah, sure, whatever," Pietro replied, giving her a small smile.  
  
"Good. I forgive you," Wanda said and she walked up to her brother and put her arms around him, squeezing him tight. Pietro squeezed back.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Okay, I know I've been having a lot of Magneto but I promise there'll be a lot more Pietro and Wanda in the next chapter. Thanks to all who reviewed!  
  
Like it? Hate it? Either way, review! 


	6. Learning to Control

You know the drill. I own nothing except Erik's cousin, even though her name is not mentioned.  
  
Indicates conversations from the past  
  
Chapter Five- Learning to Control  
  
Pietro and Wanda had been learning to control their unique gifts for four weeks now. They had also been taking lessons on the languages that their father had appointed them to learn, and they probably knew more words in European than any other child their age. Wanda was slower in learning than Pietro, mainly because of his mutation. Harder though, was to control their powers.  
  
"Concentrate, Pietro," Erik told the boy sternly. "Think of nothing else but running. All you want to do is to get to the end of this field as fast as you can, and you want to do nothing else."  
  
Pietro nodded, took a deep breath, and stared at the other end of the long field. He had to get there. He had to get there faster than any other human possibly could. He ran, pumping his legs faster, pushing himself farther. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, the wind nicked his face, he felt so alive...so free.  
  
Pietro made it to the end of the field in no time. He looked worriedly over at his father. To him, he had not seemed fast enough, everything had been in slow motion when he ran. Erik looked slightly pleased, giving him a firm nod, and in a second Pietro was back, standing next to his father.  
  
"How did I do?" he asked.  
  
"Good," he answered, looking at the stopwatch in his hand. "You made it there in 1. 3 seconds. I wonder, however, if you could go possibly faster."  
  
"I could try again," Pietro offered, eager to please the man before him. But Erik shook his head.  
  
"No, not today. We'll be controlling your mental capabilities. I believe if you could slow things down around you without running, you will have more control. Go run around for now while I see to Wanda." Erik turned around and headed back towards the house.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Wanda looked up from her coloring when Erik came in. She gave him a smile.  
  
"Hello, Father!" she chirped excitedly, pushing her drawings forward to show him.  
  
"Look!" she exclaimed, "Look at the pictures I drew! Do you like them?"  
  
Erik barely glanced at them when he answered. "Nice," he said, although he sounded like he really didn't mean it, "Wanda, it's time for your sessions."  
  
She looked a bit disappointed, but nodded and got up to follow him to his study.  
  
"What will we be doing today?" she asked curiously.  
  
"On concentrating and control," he answered shortly. It wasn't like they hadn't been doing the same thing for the past four weeks.  
  
"Oh," was all she said. Then she laughed and skipped jovially ahead.  
  
Erik furrowed his brow at the child's behavior. Why was that girl so happy all the damn time?  
  
She started humming. Erik recognized the tune. Magda used to hum it to Anya all the time.  
  
"Wanda," he said sternly, and she stopped abruptly, looking back at him with wide-innocent blue eyes. She slowed down until she was even with his pace.  
  
They entered the study and Wanda immediately bounced up onto a big and squishy black leather chair. She leaned all the way back into it and clasped her hands between her knees. Erik sat on the other chair across from her.  
  
"Just concentrate on making that water in the glass evaporate, child," he instructed her, pointing to a full glass of water on the old antique oak coffee table before them.  
  
"What do you want me to do with the water?" she asked.  
  
"Try to make it evaporate. We know you can alter probability. I am sure when you are older and much more powerful you can even create an illusion of a human," he told her. "But for now, we must take it one step at a time. Just try to make the water disappear, Wanda."  
  
Wanda nodded, licked her lips, and concentrated on the water. Her brow was scrunched up and a bead of sweat formed on her brow.  
  
"Just concentrate harder, Wanda," Erik encouraged, not taking his eyes from the glass.  
  
"I-I can't!" she cried in dismay, breaking her gaze from the water and looking at him with eyes filled with despair.  
  
Erik furrowed his brow in thought and rubbed his chin. Maybe she was a mutant that had to use her hands?  
  
"Wanda, I want you to concentrate on the water again," he said, "but I want you to concentrate on evaporating it with a wave of your hand. Just try."  
  
She looked doubtful for a moment, but that didn't mean she was about to give up. Wanda was a very stubborn child, and didn't give anything up until she succeeded.  
  
She concentrated very hard and waved her hand around. Nothing happened.  
  
She let out a cry of frustration as Erik sighed, rubbing his hands over his face.  
  
"Don't wave your hand like that," he snapped, "You remember seeing me use my powers? Just use your hands the way I do, but concentrate with all your might on making the water disappear."  
  
Wanda bit her lower lip. She was really trying her hardest! Apparently though, she was not trying hard enough.  
  
She tried again, concentrating so hard that it started to hurt.  
  
"Good, Wanda!" Erik exclaimed, seeing that some of the water was missing. "Good! Try to get rid of it all!"  
  
Wanda tried even harder, until she let out a whimper of pain. All the water in the glass had vanished.  
  
"You can stop now," Erik said softly. She was going to be so powerful!  
  
"Did I do good?" she asked in a whisper, looking at him hopefully. She let out a huge yawn.  
  
"You did-" he started to say but stopped abruptly when he saw that she had fallen asleep. He sighed and got up, walked to her, and gently scooped her up in his arms.  
  
He laid her down with great care onto her bed, and watched her for a moment. He reached out his hand and was about to push a stray lock of ebony hair behind her ear when he froze. Limply, his arm fell back to his side.  
  
He should not show compassion. It would ruin them; make them weaker, more vulnerable. He had been weak because he had shown Magda and Anya that he loved them. For that, they had died. Because he loved his cousins and his parents and his aunts and uncles, they had perished in the gas chambers of Auschwitz and Birkenau, and other death camps. And because they had loved him, they had starved, feeding him small rations of their bread, for they would fear that the young boy would die.  
  
He felt enclosed, trapped. The movement of the cattle cars suddenly hit him again. He remembered breathing in the stale air; remember witnessing a cousin dying from suffocation.  
  
Erik, shh, it will be all right...  
  
I can't breath...  
  
I'm suffocating!  
  
Shh...  
  
Erik bowed his head. That belonged in the past, and in the past it would stay, locked up forever if he had any say in it. He'd be damned if he let another Holocaust happen; to the mutants.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Yeah, I know it's a little bit short but this needed to be updated.  
  
Thanks for reviewing: InsaneBunneh, sPoOkZ13412, I Am The Anonymous Reviewer, zephyr, rosie, and Pauline L. You guys rock my socks! Keep it up! 


	7. Bad Dream

Disclaimer- I don't own anybody except...what? I don't own them either? Are you sure? Well FINE! This is an outrage! A scandal!  
  
Summary- See into the lives of Wanda, Pietro, and Magneto before the episode, "Speed and Spyke".  
  
"Well, it looks like my old buddy has a few tricks of his own. But as usual, not as good as mine."  
  
-Pietro Maximoff, Speed and Spyke  
  
Chapter Six- Bad Dream  
  
He stumbled, dazed, down the sidewalk of the little village not far from where he had lived. Dirt and grime smudged his skin, his clothes were torn in several places, his hair was unwashed and mussed up, and he looked like he had been deprived from sleep for several days.  
  
The man was not young, but he was not very old either. He was forty-seven, but he looked several years younger. His hair was a light brown in color, graying at his temples and a few other places. There was dried blood that looked like it had run down the side of his face. Normally, he would look very clean and handsome, and indeed he would have shaved. The stubble on his face however, showed just how miserable and tired the man was.  
  
He stumbled again, and kept walking very slowly from exhaustion. It was evening, and a few of the townspeople chose to take their evening walk at that particular time. Some of them recognized the man, and stared at him in astonishment and incredulity. But the man seemed oblivious of their stares, and he kept stumbling on.  
  
Some of them called out to him in concern, and he slowed, turning slowly to face a woman he vaguely recognized and her husband. He seemed to have a hard time focusing on them. His mouth moved silently, trying to form words, and their concerned voices went through one ear and out the other.  
  
Suddenly, with a burst of strength and adrenaline, he grabbed the woman's arm and looked at her with pleading eyes. She seemed surprised and slightly afraid, but she did not pull away from him.  
  
His mouth formed a word, but no sound came out.  
  
"What is it?" the woman asked, her husband coming closer. A few others gathered around as well.  
  
"My-my" the man choked out in a raspy whisper, his voice sounding like it had been dragged over gravel a thousand times, "my wife. H-have you've seen m-my wife?"  
  
The woman shook her head slightly, "Your wife is Magda right?" he nodded, "No, I'm sorry, I have not seen her. Has anybody else seen Magda Lehnsherr?" she asked the tiny crowd, and they shook their heads.  
  
He shook his head, and kept shaking it until the people thought he was truly mad. His blue eyes were empty, there did not seem to be a spark of life in them.  
  
"Mr. Lehnsherr, come home with us, we'll give you food and drink," the woman said, laying a calm and soothing hand on his arm. She tugged on his arm a bit, and her husband came and did so with his other arm, beckoning the broken man to come with them.  
  
"My wife, my wife," he muttered over and over in despair. The man and woman still tugged at his arm, and he followed blindly, still muttering.  
  
"Do you not have a daughter also, Mr. Lehnsherr?" the man asked softly, "Where is she?"  
  
They suddenly felt themselves being dragged down slightly as Mr. Lehnsherr stopped walking and had almost fallen to his knees, the man and woman had pulled him up just in time and put his arms around their shoulders.  
  
"Anya, my poor little Anya," he cried, tears leaving clean streaks through the dirt and grime that smudged his face. His shoulders shook and he let out a howl of agony. It was not a physical agony, but it seemed to be deeper, and much more emotional.  
  
The man and woman glanced at each other briefly over Mr. Lehnsherr's head. They said nothing and kept walking, their house just a block further.  
  
"Anya, Anya, Anya," he muttered again, as a fresh stream of salty tears leaked out of his icy blue eyes. "Burned, all burned. All gone. Gone. Gone...gone."  
  
The man and woman gave each other an alarmed look just as they stopped just before their front door.  
  
"She's gone, no more, burned. Burned. They burned her. They burned my daughter. My poor, sweet, little Anya..." he hissed, his voice rising, becoming angrier.  
  
"Sweet, sweet, little Anya. No more. No more 'Poppa' no more...Anya... They will pay...they will all pay...my little Anya..." he rambled on insanely. The woman and man ignored it, leading Mr. Lehnsherr into their home.  
  
"They will pay."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Erik woke, his eyes snapping open suddenly. The room was still dark, the moonlight seeping through the crack in the curtain. He moaned groggily. It was unusual for him to have dreams from his past, but that night it had happened. He hadn't remembered it clearly, being insane with grief that day.  
  
He turned his head to his left and gasped. A small, dark, figure stood beside his bed, twisting the covers nervously with its hands.  
  
"Daddy...?" a small voice asked hesitantly. It sounded frightened.  
  
"Wanda?" he asked, furrowing his brow. His immediate reply was going to be 'Anya', but then he remembered that she had been dead for quite some time. The lamp besides his bed on his night table clicked on, the metal chain pulling down by itself.  
  
"What is wrong, child?" he asked his youngest child, sitting up against the headboard. Her face looked terrified, and she must have been or she would have called him father.  
  
"I had a bad dream," she whispered, looking up at him with his wide blue eyes. "I didn't want to wake and scare Pietro..."  
  
Erik gnawed on his lower lip slightly, thinking. Running a hand through his white-gray hair, he moved his legs so they would be over the side of the bed and the feet resting on the floor. She backed away slightly.  
  
He reached out his hand to her, and she hesitantly grabbed it. He pulled her to him, and lifted her up so she sat comfortably in his lap. He had been a father before; he can start being one again.  
  
"Tell me about the dream, Süßes Mädchen," he said softly, stroking her hair tenderly.  
  
She sniffled. "There was a...I think he was a mutant. Red eyes, and he was blue. And I remember...all these fights. You were there. I-I think it was you. You had back eyes though, like clown makeup, but black." She paused, burying her face into his chest, sniffling slightly.  
  
"Go on," he gently urged her.  
  
"Bars and stale food. I saw the Professor. I saw Pietro. But he looked like you. Younger though. I think it was him. Rain. The rain was really scary Daddy! And Pie was trapped, pulling on bars like at a jail, and broken legs. Blood. And needles and hurting and monsters...it was scary!"  
  
"Shh...Wanda," he whispered, pushing her hair back out of her face.  
  
"I'm scared. I don't want to go back to sleep. I'm too scared they'll come back," she whispered, burying her face into his chest again.  
  
"Don't be afraid, child. No one will come for you here. You are well protected. Maybe if I stay with you for awhile you will go to sleep?" he asked. She nodded against his chest, her hand grabbing a small handful of his shirt.  
  
He carried her to her room, and laid her on top of the bed, pulling the tangled covers from their place at the foot of the bed and pulling them over her and up to her chin.  
  
Her eyes drooped closed, but Erik stayed there at her bedside the whole night, falling asleep sitting up.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Aww, Erik and Wanda bonding moment! Little ironic that nine years from now she's gonna want to kill him...  
  
I'm editing some chapters, particularly chapter three. I'm also writing a Magneto life fic, because he's really starting to grow on me. Gosh, darn, it must be the angst.  
  
For those of you reading Up In Flames, I'm writing the next chapter, don't worry. I'm writing a little bit every day. It's been particularly hard to write, because something very important and major is going to happen, and I want it just right. I don't know when the next update is going to be.  
  
InsaneBunneh- What going on on Saturday? Hmm? Hmmm? Thanks for your review!  
  
Flamable- I'm glad you liked it! Just tone done on the cussing please? It's not totally necessary, but your review is appreciated all the same! XD Aww, c'mon, Magneto's not THAT bad! Thanks for your review!  
  
Anon (girl)- Glad it's still intense! Clean your room yet? Thanks for your review!  
  
I Am The Anonymous Reviewer- Pietro on sugar high... Let's just say Mags learns a valuable lesson later on. Thanks for your review!  
  
Smelly-Pickles- Ah, wonderful AND unique? XD Yay! Well, as Pietro said in 'Hex-Factor' "Magneto's been no father to me either" I say he would have to be cold and stuff. I agree that he DOES love them, and if any of the two of them died it would torture him, like loosing poor Anya did. He's got a very dark past, and I plan on exploring that in a fic I'm planning on writing. And did you notice in 'Day of Reckoning II' Pietro called him 'sir'? And has called him that on several other occasions? Thanks for your review; I hope you keep reading this!  
  
Also thanks for reviewing- rosie, Scarletwitch, la cour de belles fleurs, zephyr, Pauline L., and Wind Rider 2000. You guys rock my socks!  
  
And if you haven't read this already, go and read "I Tried..." by The Phantom. It's in my favorite stories. Magneto comes to realize too late that he ruined his son. So go check it out!  
  
*tosses out comics to crowd* Here, free comics for all! Sorry, ran out of cookies.  
  
Like it? Hate it? Either way, review! 


	8. Enhancement

Disclaimer- Don't own nothing.  
  
"Y-you. Definitely you. I mean, Magneto's been no father to me either."  
  
-Quicksilver to Mystique, Hex-Factor  
  
Chapter Seven- Enhancement  
  
Pietro watched almost fearfully as his father squirted a clear liquid out of the syringe, before approaching him. Wanda sat across from him with a puzzled expression on her face.  
  
"What's that, Daddy?" she had been calling him Daddy ever since her terrible dream, which was nearly eight months ago, and he did nothing to say that she had to do otherwise.  
  
Erik looked at the tip of the hollow needle, and then shifted his cool eyes to them calmly. Kneeling in front of them he explained, "This will help your powers grow. You will have more control. It's for your own good," when they still looked wary and fearful, he added, "Trust me."  
  
And they did.  
  
Slowly, he inched Pietro's sleeve all the way up his arm. Taking a small alcohol swab, he dabbed an area of his upper arm with it. Then, with utmost care, he injected the serum into the boy.  
  
Pietro jerked, and Erik quickly grabbed the boy with his other hand to keep him still so he wouldn't make a mistake and wind up hurting the boy. Pietro's breathing became hitched, and tears clouded his vision.  
  
"Daddy! You're hurting him!" Wanda wailed from her side, too frightened to move from her spot.  
  
Pietro let out a small choked sob, and just a few seconds after that, Erik had finished and pulled the needle out, tossing it in a small garbage can right next to the lab table.  
  
He smoothed the boy's silver hair back, and then pulled the sleeve back down.  
  
"Go wash your face," he spoke quietly. Tears had leaked out in small rivulets down the boy's face, and he nodded, jumped off of the table and in a millionth of a second, he was gone.  
  
Erik watched the doorway for a while before turning his back on Wanda again and readying another syringe. He rubbed the skin of her arm with an alcohol wipe just as he did with Pietro, and then he injected her with the clear liquid too.  
  
Tears had filled Wanda's eyes much faster than they had for Pietro. She started shaking, and Erik laid a hand on her shoulder for a small offer of comfort. She held back sobs, but a few choked ones had escaped.  
  
Erik felt an obligation to comfort the girl, so he talked to her as the syringe emptied itself into her.  
  
"When's your birthday?" he asked softly, surprised when he realized he had never asked that before.  
  
"January twenty-first," Wanda said meekly. Erik pulled out the needle and disposed of that. The lights flickered and then a bulb broke. Wanda started crying harder. Erik picked her up gently, carried her to her room, and laid her on the bed. He exited, shutting the door quietly behind him.  
  
"Dad?" a small and hesitant somebody said from behind him.  
  
Erik turned around and spotted Pietro, and he stared coolly down at the boy. Both of his children had dropped the 'Father' and instead said 'Dad' or 'Daddy'.  
  
The child did not speak right away and Erik raised an eyebrow expectantly. Pietro was looking at the floor when her muttered something inarticulate.  
  
"What was that?" Erik asked. Pietro looked up, his pupils were dilated and his face was paler. His movements seemed to be jerkier.  
  
"Evrythinsoslow," he said so fast that Erik had a little trouble deciphering it. The boy looked panicked, as his head jerked around, looking at the area around him in fear.  
  
Pietro looked at his father, who very slowly, *very* slowly kneeled in front of him. He said something but it was like they were playing a tape in slow motion and Pietro did not understand it. He just stared at the man before him, as his mouth moved with eternal sluggishness, his voice too low to make anything out of it.  
  
In his panic, Pietro fled to his room, right when Erik was in mid-sentence.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Both of the twins sat next to each other at the table for dinner instead of across from one another. They felt sore all over, and they had guessed that it was from the shot their father had given them. Silently, they ate their chicken and applesauce, which was Pietro's favorite.  
  
Short, plump, Anita came bustling in, dressed up in a black woolen dress with a black babushka tied around her head. She had tears in her eyes.  
  
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she murmured as she hugged both the surprised Pietro and Wanda tightly. "Oh, Kinder, I must go. My cousin...he is deathly ill, and he has no one to take care of him. Oh, Lieblinge."  
  
Pietro and Wanda hugged her back fiercely, tears forming in their eyes once again.  
  
"I will visit as often as I can. Trips from Germany to the United states is Teuer."  
  
"Bye, Anita!" Wanda said, pecking the woman on the cheek. Pietro said nothing but held on to her tighter.  
  
And Anita left.  
  
They sadly ate dinner in silence together. Their father not there with them, just like the last few weeks. He was down in his lab, studying things that they didn't understand about.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~  
  
More injections came. Wanda became less innocent, Pietro began seeing things slower. It was enough to drive them both to be different.  
  
It was time to go to school. They had been to school before, but ever since they had lived with their father they had been tutored. Now, their father had registered them at the local elementary school, and Pietro and Wanda Maximoff were to start the third grade.  
  
They stopped in front of the school in their father's silver BMW; they stared at it nervously and with wide eyes from the back seats.  
  
Erik unbuckled his seatbelt, and the children followed, getting out of the car and swinging their backpacks over their shoulders. Silently, staring at the building the whole time, they followed Erik in to the main doors.  
  
They stopped at the office, where Erik signed some papers and then left, but not before telling them quietly to come straight to the lab when they got home, and not to tell them about being mutants, or showing off their powers. They nodded, and they said their goodbyes, watching Erik's back the whole time as he exited the building.  
  
It was the middle of the first quarter, so they were still pretty much at the beginning of the year. Their teacher, Ms. Helen Sandy, a woman with frizzy brown hair and with a slight gap in her teeth, smiled at them, and led them towards their classroom.  
  
They walked into the classroom, near an area where loads of colorful autumn coats were, as well as backpacks.  
  
"Here, this will be your coat hangers, and cubby place," she said, smiling sweetly, and reaching a pocket in her sweater and taking out two stickers of an apple with a worm coming out. With a big Sharpie marker, she wrote 'Wanda' on one and 'Pietro' on the other. She stuck them both on two of the remaining spaces. They hung their coats up, and put their things in their cubby place.  
  
She placed them next to each other at a circular table with two other boys and two other girls. They gave Pietro funny looks, mainly because of his hair. Pietro bowed his head, looking at his hands in his lap.  
  
"Good morning, class," Said Ms. Sandy.  
  
"Good morning, Ms. Sandy," the class repeated in unison.  
  
"Today we have two new students. They're twins! Isn't that exciting? They're names are Pietro and Wanda Maximoff. Greet the Maximoffs, children!"  
  
"Hello, Pietro and Wanda," some of the kids snickered at Pietro's name. He blushed slightly, and did not look up from his lap.  
  
"Now, I'm going to pass out these math sheets. You figure out the problems in each shape, and then color them according to the color key. When you're all finished, you'll have a picture!" she said this excitedly as she gave each table the appropriate number of papers, then setting a large plastic container of crayons in the center.  
  
When Pietro took his paper, he went to reach for the crayons, but then nearly everybody else got in his way and dug in. He waited politely, knowing exactly what they were doing, and when they sat back down he went and grabbed a handful of crayons.  
  
School had gone by agonizingly slow to Pietro, but fast to Wanda. Pietro had finished everything before any of the other students, and he was awarded a sucker for the day.  
  
When both the twins walked out to the front, Pietro cautiously licked the red candy. He had not eaten many sugary things while living with their father, since he did not allow it, saying that it might trigger Pietro's powers and make him go wild and out of control.  
  
He licked it again, savoring the sweet cherry flavor. He stuck it in his mouth, sucking on it until it became a little, tiny ball inside of his mouth, dying the inside a vibrant red. A BMW drove up where they were waiting by the flagpole in front of the school. They got up and entered the vehicle without a word. Before he entered however, Pietro took the white stick the sucker had been stuck to, and stuck it in his coat pocket.  
  
Alfred was acting as chauffer, and he smiled at them both in the rearview mirror. They gave him a small smile back, and then looked out the window gloomily.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~* More shots came. More experiments came. Pietro was forced to run on treadmills for endless hours; while Erik was trying everything he could to help Wanda control her powers. It was almost no use.  
  
And months past, and both Pietro and Wanda turned ten. They didn't have a birthday party; they didn't receive any birthday cards. They just sat on a metal table, allowing the man who called himself their father to dope them up with God-knows-what.  
  
Pietro, sore from the evening's injections, collapsed in his bed, not bothering to change into his pajamas or get under the covers. He just lay there, head just missing the pillow, laying on his stomach.  
  
The door opened a crack, and yellow light trailed inside of the room, illuminating part of Pietro's face.  
  
"Pie?" Wanda spoke softly from the doorway. Pietro gave a grunt.  
  
Wanda walked over and sat herself on the edge of his bed. Tears were running down her face.  
  
Slowly (well, slow for him) Pietro sat up and looked at her with concern.  
  
"What is it Wanda?" he asked anxiously.  
  
"It hurts," she choked out. "Can I stay with you?"  
  
Pietro stared at her for a split second, and then nodded, scooting over on his small bed. He quickly changed into his pajamas, and he did this so fast that Wanda hadn't even noticed he changed at all. He pulled back the covers, motioned for her to join him, and Wanda crawled in. The snuggled close to each other, feeling safer than they ever had before.  
  
"Pietro, if anything ever bad happens, will you protect me?" she asked in a whisper.  
  
Pietro wrapped his arms around her. "Of course. What are big brothers for?"  
  
She smiled slightly then shut her eyes. Pietro did too.  
  
"I'm older, by the way," Wanda muttered tiredly after a few minutes. Pietro shook his head minutely, too tired to argue about the matter.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
YAY! Pietro and Wanda bonding moments! And the injections have begun! Erik now is slowly becoming more Magneto-ish. How far will this man go?  
  
I have revised the Chapter Two- Memory. It's actually chapter three, but you get the idea.  
  
THANKS TO ALL WHO REVIEW!!! I LOVE YOU GUYS!  
  
Like it? Hate it? Either way, review! 


	9. Glimpse of a Blue Lady

Disclaimer- Own X-Men: Evolution and anything to do with Marvel, I do not, hmmm? Owns Green Eggs and Ham, Dr. Suess does.  
  
Great, now I'm turning into Yoda....  
  
George Lucas owns Yoda. I think...  
  
Author's note- The dialogue pretty much doesn't have "He said, she said" You'll have to guess who's who. It'll be easy, and there's a reason it's like that, and that reason is because it's dark.  
  
Chapter Nine- Glimpse of a Blue Lady  
  
Huddled together in a thick, warm, blanket, the twins sat together, a book open in the middle of them, Pietro holding the flashlight between them.  
  
"I do not like them, Sam I am," Wanda whispered, and then turned the page.  
  
"God, this is a classic," Pietro told her, letting Wanda read out loud.  
  
"I do not like them in a house, I do not like them with a mouse."  
  
"I wonder if I could meet Dr. Suess? Man, it'd be cool to get his autograph!"  
  
"I do not like them here or there, I do not like them anywhere."  
  
"We need to get more books after we finish this one...Oh, turn the page? Sorry."  
  
"I do not like green eggs and ham, I do not like them Sam I am!"  
  
"I could not, would not, in a box, I could not would not with a fox."  
  
"Hey, do you think Dad ever read a great book like this? I mean, he's gotta, he's a genius! Geniuses read books like this."  
  
"Will you shut up!"  
  
"Sorry." Turns page.  
  
"Hey, isn't Dr. Suess's real name like Theodore Giesel or something? Or is it just Dr. Suess?"  
  
"Theodore Giesel."  
  
"Oh." Turns page.  
  
"Wow, now I know why he changed his name from Theodore Giesel to Dr. Suess! I mean, Dr. Suess is so much cooler than Theodore. Who'd want to be named Theodore?"  
  
"People whose names are Theodore."  
  
"Well, you didn't have to sound so snotty about it."  
  
"Shh!"  
  
"I'm trying! But you're reading out loud so-"  
  
"No, no, listen! Is that someone walking?"  
  
"Wanna go check it out?"  
  
"I don't know..."  
  
"Oh come on, Wandie! Unless you want to be a sissy!"  
  
"Don't call me that!"  
  
"Call you what? Wandie or sissy?"  
  
"Both!"  
  
"Too bad. Wandie's a sissy, Wandie's a sissy, sissy, sissy, siiiiissssssy!"  
  
"Stop!"  
  
"La la la la la SISSY! La la la la la WANDIE!"  
  
"Do you want to be hexed?!"  
  
"No."  
  
"Then stop!"  
  
"I don't wanna!" Whining.  
  
"Be quiet!"  
  
"NO!"  
  
"Shut up! Do you want Father to come up here and punish us! He'll make you run more."  
  
Silence.  
  
Whisper. "So, you wanna go check it out?"  
  
"Oh, alright fine!"  
  
"Yay! Come on, we'll pretend we're on a safari hunt at midnight or something and that we're looking for the dangerous beast! It'll be fun!"  
  
"To you maybe."  
  
"You'll love it."  
  
"No, you'll love it."  
  
"I'll love it." She didn't reply.  
  
"Come on."  
  
Clicking off the flashlight, the dull yellow glow immediately disappearing, Pietro grabbed his sister's hand, put a finger to his lips, and led them outside of his bedroom. Carefully, and slowly (which was practically agonizing to his mind) he twisted the knob to the left, and slowly, slowly, he pushed the door open. The walls looked pale next to the carpet, and together they tiptoed, gripping each other's hand tightly.  
  
They turned the corner, but Pietro had stubbed his toe at the end table, the vase wobbling dangerously on the top of it. He let out a heated exclamation, rubbing his toe while balancing on one leg, while Wanda steadied the vase.  
  
"Be more careful," Wanda whispered lowly.  
  
"I'm trying!" he hissed back. "It just appeared out of nowhere!"  
  
"We've been living in this house for like, almost a year, you had to have known it was there!"  
  
"Well I forgot!"  
  
"Shh!" Wanda hissed, and then pointed towards the end of the hall, where they heard voices.  
  
They tiptoed down the hallway, stopping at where you could either turn left or right. Huddled by the right corner, they cupped their right ears with their hands, trying to amplify the voices.  
  
"It's been a pleasure...Master," a woman's alto voice said. Pietro gasped, and Wanda immediately pressed her index finger against his lips, warning him to keep quiet.  
  
The door to their father's office creaked open, and Pietro wrapped an arm around his sister's waist, preparing to bolt out of there at a moment's notice, but not just yet.  
  
"Raven, I suggest you change form. I have children living here now."  
  
"Oh, yes. What's this about the Speed Demon I've been hearing?"  
  
"Later, Raven. Go now."  
  
The lady stepped out, the light from the office now illuminating her, and both Pietro and Wanda gasped. Her head inclined slightly in their direction, and they both stopped breathing instantaneously.  
  
She was tall, wearing a white dress with slits all the way up to the hips. Around her waist was a belt of small, human skulls. Her skin was a deep blue, bluer than even the sibling's eyes, and her eyes glinted with a catlike yellow. A small shine came from the middle of her hairline, a gold color. Her hair was a luscious, deep red-orange. Slowly, she morphed into the shape of their butler Alfred.  
  
Tightening his arm around Wanda's waist, Pietro ran out of there with speed he had not known yet.  
  
They were in his room again, and he let go of Wanda, who immediately hunched over and wheezed.  
  
"Warn me the next time you do that," she gasped. Pietro walked (or, in his definition, walking) over to her and gently rubbed circles on her back.  
  
"Sorry," he apologized, "but there was no time for warning. Did you see that blue lady turn into Alfred?"  
  
Wanda gasped.  
  
"What? What's wrong?" he asked frantically.  
  
"What if," she gulped, "what if she is Alfred? What is she had been Alfred all along?"  
  
Pietro stared at her disbelievingly. "No, no. That-that can't be! Why would she pose as a butler for years?"  
  
"Maybe," she began to explain, "maybe Father only had a butler when we came. And she didn't need to change shapes because we weren't living here yet, but she changed into Alfred when we came!"  
  
They were silent the rest of the night, contemplating this disturbing realization of what could be.  
  
"Here you are, Miss Wanda," Alfred said, setting the plate in front of Wanda. She stared up at him fearfully for a moment, and when he gave her a confused look, she quickly diverted her gaze to her plate, picking at the eggs with her fork.  
  
"And young Master Pietro," he set the plate down in front of the boy. It had two sunny-side up eggs, a piece of golden toast, and hash browns with little square pieces of ham at the side. Reluctantly, he took the fork and poked at it, scooped the hash browns up and sniffed at it, then, with much hesitancy, he put it in his mouth.  
  
Nothing seemed wrong with it. He didn't taste any poison at all, so he cut part of the egg with his fork, and ate it.  
  
Nope, no poison.  
  
Erik raised an eyebrow at him, and other than that, his face was cool and impassive. He blushed slightly, bowing his head and continued eating in silence.  
  
Hopefully, both he and Wanda wouldn't be sick and dying at the end of the day. That blue lady looked mean and dangerous.  
  
Now, to uncover Alfred's identity...  
  
Here's the end of this chapter! Sorry it's short, but isn't this better than not updating at all? Now, I'm off to attempt to write the next chapter of Up in Flames! Hopefully writer's block will be kind and take a vacation for a little while...  
  
No shout outs, terribly sorry. I just want to get this up and posted! Thanks to all who reviewed! You guys rock my socks!  
  
Won't post next chapter until I get...Oh, let's say 75 reviews. So if you're reading this, please review!  
  
Like it? Hate it? Either way, review! 


	10. Just Keep Breathing

Disclaimer- "Okay, my microphone either just went out or I just had a small stroke."  
  
Author's Note- Chapters for this story may come out faster now because when I was on vacation I wrote a little something that's going to happen for each chapter. It's helping me already.  
  
Chapter Nine- Just Keep Breathing  
  
Pietro ran on the treadmill, easily keeping up with its top speed. The nine- year old boy's shirt was off, wearing only a pair of gray running shorts. On his chest were two white circles; what you would call cupping. Cupping hurts, and if you were ill, they wouldn't do anything to help your sickness. But these ones helped Erik with his results on his enhancement on his son's powers. On Pietro's left upper arm was an IV tube, where clear liquid made his way into his body.  
  
Pietro's breathing was hitched, not from tiredness, but from the pain in his chest and arm. He hoped that they were almost done. He risked a glance at his father, whom was currently not looking at him. His face was impassive as he scribbled on the clipboard he was holding. His lab coat was crisp and stark white that Pietro found it a little abnormal to have that clean a piece of apparel. Pietro quickly averted his gaze to his sister on the other side of the room. She was brooding, idly zapping at a row of potted plants that their father had put there for her to practice on while he observed Pietro.  
  
Pietro glanced back at his father, only to see him staring at him with a neutral expression. Pietro felt himself stop breathing, and he quickly tried to get air back in his lungs before he started to suffocate. It had happened before. He was not yet able to fully control his speed and sometimes it would just slip in and out of his control, sometimes his body would forget to draw in air.  
  
'Just keep breathing, Pietro,' he told himself.  
  
Slowly and agonizingly for him and his body, air rushed back into his lungs and he could breath easily again. Suddenly, he found that the rubber surface he was running on was slowing down. He looked up and found his father lowering the speed at the front of the machine, staring at him as he did so. Finally, it was just at a slow and steady jogging pace.  
  
"Just jog it out, Pietro," Erik said. Pietro struggled to gain control of his powers. He hadn't understood what Erik had just said; it had been uttered so slow for him. He stared at Erik blankly.  
  
"Just jog it out, Pietro," Erik repeated, and Pietro nodded, understanding now. He slowed his pace to the appropriate speed of the treadmill.  
  
Erik removed the white circles from Pietro's chest, much to his relief. And carefully as he could, he gently pulled out the IV from Pietro's arm.  
  
"I just want you to jog and keep setting it slower until I'm done with Wanda," Erik said, "Then the both of you may eat."  
  
Pietro nodded again and set himself to looking around the white, sterile room to keep him busy.  
  
Meanwhile, on the opposite side of the room, Wanda was still zapping her plants. Each potted plant wilted and shriveled up as she sent a bolt of blue energy at each one of them one at a time.  
  
"Wanda," Erik said softly from her side and she jumped, startled.  
  
"I'm ready," she said softly.  
  
"I think you might be ready to try your hex bolts on alive and moving objects," Erik told her. Wanda looked up at him with round eyes. Fearfully, they darted towards the direction of her brother, who was now slowing down his pace ever so slightly.  
  
"I'm not going to make you test them on your brother," Erik told her gently as he turned around and walked the few steps separating him from the metal cabinets hanging on the wall. He opened one of them, pulled out a small box, and set them on the metal countertop just underneath the cabinets.  
  
He slid the lid open on the small box, stuck his hand in, and pulled something out, turning around he walked over to where Wanda was sitting on the couch and set it on the small metal table in front of her.  
  
"It's a simple albino mouse," Erik told her as her eyes opened even wider when she saw the furry white rodent scamper around the table, occasionally sliding on the smooth surface. It stopped and stood on its hind legs, its blood red eyes staring at her, its little whiskered nose wiggling as it sniffed the air.  
  
"I don't want to kill it," she told her father immediately. Erik sighed.  
  
"Wanda, I doubt you will kill it. Besides, these mice are used all the time as lab mice. Scientists experiment all the time with them." Erik told her.  
  
Wanda shook her head again, pointing to the dead and wilted plants behind her father. "But I killed the plants! Look at them, Father! I don't want to kill the mouse!"  
  
"Shh, Wanda you're not going to kill it. This mouse has a purpose, and that's helping you learn to control your powers. Just hex it." Erik tried to encourage her.  
  
But Wanda was still shaking her head violently. "No! I don't want to kill it! I don't even want to hurt it! Please don't make me do it!"  
  
"Wanda listen to me," Erik snapped, "Do you ever want to gain control of your powers? Or will you let them have control of you? This will help you."  
  
Wanda swallowed, and shakily pointed her finger at the mouse and zapped it. It squeaked loudly and jumped in the air, parts of its white fur were singed and a little smoke was rising from it.  
  
"I hurt it! I hurt it!" Wanda wailed, tears pouring out of her eyes. The lights flickered. "Why'd you make me do it! I killed it! Look at it!"  
  
"Wanda! Calm down!" Erik demanded, placing his large hands on her small shoulders. But she was still shaking her head, looking at the mouse as it stopped moving around on the table, and collapsed on its side, just twitching. On the other side of the room, they heard a yelp.  
  
Both heads swiveled simultaneously to the other direction, and they saw Pietro lying on the floor behind the treadmill, his chin bleeding, but almost the entire left side of his face looked like it had been scraped badly and was just beginning to bleed. The treadmill was going faster than its highest speed. Then suddenly the smell of burnt rubbing filled the room as smoke started coming from the treadmill. Erik quickly ran to it and shut if off completely, then walked around it and knelt beside Pietro, who was rubbing his wrist tearfully.  
  
"It just went faster all of a sudden!" He exclaimed hurriedly. "I was walking and all of a sudden zoom! And I flew off. I hit my chin on the rubber and landed on my wrist funny."  
  
Erik carefully grabbed the boy's wrist and examined it. Pietro winced as he prodded at it to check if it was broken in any places.  
  
"It'll be fine in a few days," he said finally. He placed his hands under Pietro's armpits and heaved him up to stand on his feet. The lights were still flickering and he heard glass shatter. Turning to face Wanda again, he saw that she had wrapped her arms around her knees and was still crying.  
  
Dragging Pietro behind him by the arm, he went to the counter and pulled out some supplies to clean Pietro's scrapes. He ignored Wanda the entire time he was doing this but finally when he was done he picked her up and carried her out of the room. All of the levitating objects dropped to the floor with a clatter.  
  
He stopped out side of the nearest bathroom, set her down on the floor and opened the door.  
  
"The both of you wash your hands," he told them, "Wanda, wash your face too. Then come down for dinner." He walked off to the direction of his bedroom.  
  
The twins silently washed their hands, first scrubbing them with soap, and then rinsing them with warm water. Wanda was trying to control her breathing. She reached over and grabbed some of the toilet paper, and blew her nose loudly.  
  
"You better wash your hands again," Pietro told her as he looked at her from the corner of his eye drop the used paper in the toilet. Wanda obeyed.  
  
"He made me use my hex bolts on the mouse, Pietro!" She said as he handed her the towel to dry her hands. "Did you see it twitching on the table like that? He told me I wouldn't kill it!" Tears ran down her cheeks again.  
  
"No, I fell off the treadmill. My face is burning," he idly reached up to rub the sore on his cheek but winced violently and snatched it away.  
  
"I-I'm sorry!" wailed Wanda, "That was m-m-me! I lost control again!"  
  
"S'okay," Pietro muttered, "Just breath calmly, Wanda." He wrapped his arm around her as they exited the bathroom together.  
  
When they entered the dining room their father was not there yet, but each of their places had been set and food was set at the center of the table where they were sitting. The food looked like fish and chicken and a large salad bowl also.  
  
"Should we wait?" Wanda asked in a whisper. But Pietro needn't had answered because a second later their father walked in, dressed in normal casual clothes now instead of his lab ones.  
  
"Help yourselves," he grunted as he sat down and pulled his chair closer to the table. Silently they all fixed their plates and salads, nothing making any noise except the clatter of plates and the chinking of silverware and glasses.  
  
After they had finished, they just sat back in their seats idly and waited until their filled stomachs settled for a moment. Then, Erik stood without saying a word and strolled out. Simultaneously, the twins rose from their seats also and headed towards their favorite talking place: the second floor linen closet just down the hall from their bedroom.  
  
They talked for what must have been a half an hour in the closet. Blankets and towels under the bottom shelf surrounded Wanda and Pietro, and they were starting to breath shallower as the air became more and more stale.  
  
"I want to learn more about our mother," Wanda said suddenly.  
  
"What?" Pietro asked, confused. "Marya? But we know all about her!"  
  
"No, our real mother." Wanda told him. "Do you think, do you think we should ask Father?"  
  
Pietro shrugged, but Wanda couldn't see him do so in the darkness.  
  
"He seems like he doesn't exactly mind talking about her," she whispered. "I mean, he gets all sad and stuff but he doesn't look angry."  
  
"Yeah," Pietro agreed, "Yeah, I think we should."  
  
He reached up to open the door. When it opened they both crawled out, but Pietro's legs were still tangled in one of the heavier blankets. He gave a few good kicks until he was finally free.  
  
Side by side they walked towards his study. They had only been in there a few times, but each time they felt the same amount of awe. The walls were a deep burgundy color. When you walk in on the right side of the room in the center of the wall was a medium size brick fireplace, which usually made itself home to orange, dancing flames. Deep, blood red velvet couches surrounded the fireplace. A few bookshelves were in the back of the room, and the carpet matched the walls, only a shade darker.  
  
Hesitantly Wanda knocked on the door. They waited with baited breath for an answer.  
  
After a pause they heard a terse, "Come in," and they opened the door, entered, and then slowly closed it behind him.  
  
As usual, the fire lit up the room with an orange-ish glow. Erik sat in one of the armchairs in front of the fire. He was tracing something silver with his fingertips as it rested in his lap, and in the other hand he was holding a glass of wine.  
  
"Father?" Pietro said, taking a hesitant step forward. Erik inclined his head slightly towards him but he was still gazing into the flames. Silently the two of them walked in front of him and sat down on the rug.  
  
He ignored them for a minute before saying, "What?"  
  
"We want you to tell us about Mother," Wanda whispered.  
  
Erik breathed in sharply. After holding it for a few seconds, however, he slowly exhaled. Setting his wine on the circular end table next to his chair, he stood up and walked to the back of the room. Both of them saw that the silver thing was a picture frame. He bent down to the very bottom shelf on one of the cases, and pulled out three sorts of large books. When he sat back down they saw they were photo albums.  
  
"I managed to save the photographs that had been stored in boxes that were in the cellar underground of our house," Erik told them opening one of the albums as he set the other two and the picture frame to the side.  
  
He reached over to the table and sipped the wine again. "Come to the couch," he told them and then he went to turn on the light switch by the door so they could see well. Then he sat between them and opened it to the first page.  
  
"This is our wedding album," he told them. "Magda's family didn't have a lot of money, but I did. I hired a photographer and he took the best damn pictures I could have asked for. He was a cousin of mine that had been in America during the Holocaust, so he would have taken them for free, but I refused. He's dead now."  
  
"Is that her?" Wanda asked, pointing to a very pretty woman in the black and white photograph. Erik nodded.  
  
They poured over all three albums, until they came to the very last photograph. Magda was lying on a sprawled out blanket under a large oak tree. To her right was a small wall made of rocks. She smiled up at the camera, the dimple in her right cheek showing. With his finger, Erik traced her face in the picture lovingly. He closed it gently, obscuring Magda's smiling face from view.  
  
"Go to bed," he told them. They looked sadly at each other and then slid off of the couch, saying goodnight to him at the door.  
  
"'Night," he whispered as the door closed.  
  
He settled back into his armchair, albums resting in his lap. He finished the rest of his wine and then set it gently back at the table. That last photograph had stirred a memory inside of him. That exact place was where Magda and him had first made love.  
  
He remembered when he first met her. They were at a market, and he had seen her trying to haggle the price for a gift she wanted to give to her nephew for his seventh birthday. Erik had stepped in and bought the gift for her. It had been inexpensive, but Magda's family had been poor. He had fallen in love instantly when their eyes had first met.  
  
She had only been nineteen, and he was almost eleven years her senior, but age doesn't matter when you were so madly in love. They wedded two years later, even though her family hadn't approved of him totally because he was Jewish and not a Gypsy. Nine years later, Magda had finally given birth to their first child, Anya.  
  
His vision became blurry, and he shut his eyes. He missed them. He had never missed anyone as much as he missed Magda and Anya.  
  
"Anya, you caught your first fish!" Magda exclaimed excitedly as her five- year old daughter held up the line that had a small bluegill at the end of it.  
  
"Look at it, Momma!" Anya giggled. "It just stopped wiggling. But it was flopping all over the place when I caught it! And Poppa didn't even help!"  
  
Magda laughed as she examined her daughter's first fish again. They were picnicking, the blanket was set up a little bit away from the stream where father and daughter set up their fishing lines.  
  
"Well, are we going to eat it or set it back to its home?" Magda asked as her husband came walking up with a larger fish.  
  
Anya's brow furrowed as she thought about it. "Can't I keep it as a pet?"  
  
Magda laughed, glancing up at her husband as he gave her a lopsided smile. "No, no, no, sweetheart. The fish would be unhappy if you keep him confined."  
  
Anya looked disappointed. "Well, I guess we could free him."  
  
Magda smiled. "Okay, come on we'll set him back now." She grabbed her daughter's free hand, and with her other arm, she latched it around her husband's and dragged him along with them.  
  
The three of them stood by the shore as Erik bit the line near the fish's mouth. He explained, "It swallowed the hook, so if we pull it out it would kill the fish. That's okay, we got plenty more. Hooks, I mean."  
  
They all settled down on the soft blanket and started eating the meat sandwiches that Magda had made the day before. Magda reached over and played with the hair at Erik's temples.  
  
"You're graying, dear," she said with a teasing smile. Her fingers grazed over to the hair on his hairline, which was turning gray also.  
  
"Hush you," Erik said through a mouthful of food. Magda ran her fingers through his hair again, and rested her hand at the back of his head. He swallowed and took a drink of his water. Dusting off his hands, he leaned around Anya and gave Magda a quick kiss on the lips.  
  
"Stasha has seven brothers and sisters, Momma," Anya said randomly. She was currently licking her fingers clean and then wiping them dry on her yellow dress. "I want a brother or a sister. Can't I get one?"  
  
Erik looked away and Magda gave her a bittersweet smile. "We'll see," she said softly. Magda could not easily carry a child. There had been minor complications when she delivered Anya. Before they conceived her however, she had had several miscarriages. It would be hard having another child.  
  
"Well, I really want one," Anya told them. "Then I could be a big sister."  
  
Magda smiled and pushed a lock of Anya's light brown hair behind her ear. "I'm sure you'd make a wonderful big sister."  
  
Erik felt cold and lost. He awoke, slowly opening his eyes and blinking them a few times. He was in his study, the fire had died down to nothing and the room was semi-dark, the moonlight creeping in from the crack in the curtains. He moaned and rubbed his hand over his face to rub the sleep away. He felt an odd weight on his lap and looking down he saw it was the photo albums. He stood up, walked over to the shelf he got them from, and put them away neatly. He walked back, picking up the picture frame from the table and walked silently out of the room and to his sleeping quarters.  
  
He sat down on his bed, the springs creaking slightly under his weight. He stared down at the picture in the frame. It had been his favorite one of Magda. She stood at the counter, whom had not exactly been looking at the camera, but there was a smile on her face and you could see her eye looking towards it. She had an apron on, and she was rolling bread dough, some flour had ended up on her cheeks and nose. It had been Magda doing an everyday thing.  
  
Erik sighed, set the frame down gently on the bedside table, laid down and closed his eyes, drifting to sleep once again.  
  
. . . . . . . . . . . .  
  
Yay! Another chapter! And much longer than my other ones, I'll tell you that! Okay, that whole place where they first made love under that oak tree near that rock wall came from "The Shawshank Redemption". Good movie. Haven't seen it, go out and rent it. Tim Robbins and Morgan Freeman did a good job.  
  
Okay, I made Magda that much younger than Erik because then when she died she could be the proper age to have given birth to twins. So she was born in 1945 and died in 1981. I made Evolution set around 1998-99. That way it all fits, because then Erik would be 64, and that would be old enough to have survived the Holocaust. He was around 11 when he escaped with Captain America and Logan. And I made Magda be someone who couldn't have babies easily just because I felt like it.  
  
Stasha is the Polish form of Stanley. I just don't know how it's spelled, so I just guessed.  
  
Insanebunneh- I think you reviewed them all...I'm not sure.  
  
Kyuushi- Really? Magneto seems too evil in here? Oh. Oh well. I think he's a little bit nicer in this chapter. At least I'm not writing him beating and raping his kids. And I get so sick and tired of that crap too. And I read fics where he just marries Magda so they could have children that are mutants for his Mutant Army. But see, if you've ever read 'I Tried...' by The Phantom, I'm kind of working Erik like that one. If you haven't read it, go read it; it's just a chapter. Yeah, grammar isn't my best but I seem to be doing better. Spelling I'm surprised, because I'm pretty good at that.  
  
Thanks also to childrenwithblades, SperryDee, Anon(girl), and sPoOkZ13412.  
  
Like it? Hate it? Either way, review! 


End file.
